When We've Said Goodbye
by Arda's Angel
Summary: A regretful shadow bids farewell to its angel.


**Story: **When We've Said Goodbye

**Rating:** PG

**Songs used:** Think of Me, small sections of other PotO songs

**Dedication:** I don't usually do this, however, I feel that there is always room for change. This story is dedicated to my Aunt Lila who passed away at approx. 2:40 this afternoon, March 22, 2005.

**WARNINGS: **Actually, for one of my stories, this is quite tame. That being said, this is my first Phantom phic so please be gentle. Also, this phic contains character death and some light fluff. This is also a one-shot. If you have objections to any of the above, please do not read simply to argue. Constructive criticism is always welcome, however.

Maris: Ok… On with the phic!

Erik appears from pages of the Leroux novel left by the computer. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Maris: How dare I what?

Erik: All of the characters in this do not belong to you. You must have a disclaimer.

Maris: I would, however you have just accomplished that for me.

Erik: In any event, it would be wise if my requests are obeyed.

Maris: But you just did… Oh, and Erik...

Erik: Yes?

Maris: You _do_ belong to me. And now I give you the story…

**When We've Said Goodbye**

A gloved hand caressed the pale, cold cheek. A silvery tear fell onto the hand and slipped across the frozen features of the porcelain body.

_Think of me, think of me fondly_

Memories caused the cloaked figure to shake with emotion.

_When we've said goodbye_

A soft smile, a longing caress passed between to people.

_Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try_

Memories built up against the steel walls of the mind, erected to forget the one who now lay, white and stony, on the crimson velvet of antique, richly embroidered curtain. The cloaked figure raised a gloved hand to brush away the tear, staining the luminescent beauty of the snowy face, and the painful cobwebs of memory, brought back by the impassive face that had gazed so tenderly in life.

_If you find, that once again you long to take your heart back and be free_

The figure spoke then, talking to their companion in a one-sided parody of conversation. "It's been over 15 years, and still you haunt me. Why, angel, why? Why can you not release me? Please, let me go. You've caused pain enough for a thousand lifetimes. Let me go."

_If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me_

The reminders of that fateful night finally brought the cloaked visitor to their knees. "'_Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?' 'This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing' 'Christine, I tried so hard to free you' 'Either way you choose you cannot win' 'Pitiful creature of darkness' 'Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you'" _The figure grasped at its cloak, wracked by painful sobs.

_I never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea _

_But if you can still remember, stop and think of me_

"'_Christine I love you_'"

_Think of me, think of me waking_

The sight and smell of the fire still lingered, reminding the shadow of the cold, harsh mornings, waking from a dream to find an unforgiving existence waiting.

_Silent and resigned_

Even as reality sank in, regret flowed relentlessly, tormenting, accusing, dragging and ripping at the feeble protection the cloak seemed to provide.

_Imagine me, trying to hard to put you from my mind_

_Recall those day, think back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do_

The Figure clutched at the limp hand on the bed, begging it for forgiveness and finding none.

_There will never be a day when I won't think of you_

A second figure emerged from the shadows, beckoning the first to come away from the bedside. "There will be no more pain in this lifetime. Not from you or anyone else."

The hooded figure nodded in silent agreement, once more allowing tears to wash the finally peaceful face.

_Flowers fade the fruits of summer fade_

The stern but motherly form of Madame Giry gingerly extended a hand to the weeping shadow. "You will meet again, and perhaps you will both be all the wiser for it."

_They have their seasons, so do we_

Another nod. The tears stopped flowing and a black glove was removed. The delicate hand pressed to pale lips, bidding silent farewell to the being who had meant so much.

_But please promise me, that sometimes you will think of me_

Christine Daaé bent over her fallen angel and laid a gentle kiss to his brow. "I will never forget you Angel."

The wind embraced her, running cool lithe fingers through her hair. "Thank you Christine. Thank you."


End file.
